


familiar

by parkjinchu



Category: ASTRO (Band)
Genre: Beaches, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Holidays, M/M, a gift for vonseal, allusions to sex, lots of making out and soft touches and smiles :)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-16
Updated: 2017-09-16
Packaged: 2018-12-30 09:06:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12105363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/parkjinchu/pseuds/parkjinchu
Summary: Jinwoo and Myungjun take a short holiday to the beach.In which, both men have a different definition for 'home'.set invonseal'smagic usersuniversethis is a work of fiction, and in no way represents the real lives of astro's members. in case of astro/fantagio/reasonable fan request, this fic will be taken downread full disclaimer on my profile





	familiar

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vonseal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vonseal/gifts).
  * Inspired by [witchcraft](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10228439) by [vonseal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vonseal/pseuds/vonseal). 



> hey hey hey so for the past few days vonseal and i have been chatting and we ended up writing stories for each other's universes. this was so much fun to write, i loved it.  
> i also really love what seal wrote for me, it made me cry, it's so close to my heart. i'll link to everything in the end notes! enjoy :)

“What do you say,” Jinwoo begins, as he settles in a chair in the backroom of the bakery, “To going on a holiday with me?”

There’s adrenaline churning in his stomach at the idea of a vacation, along with a flicker of pride. Never in his life had he ever taken a trip away, purely for relaxation and enjoyment. He’d fled people and cities, in the search for something better, but never with that guaranteed. Working hard at his job, he’d managed to put a little money aside to take Myungjun away, a few days for the two of them wherever the man may desire.

Myungjun is resting his head in his hands, eyelids drooping as he gazes lazily at his boyfriend. A man had just left, all teary-eyed and grinning, a freshly reborn golden retriever yapping at his heels. Reviving plants only zapped a bit of energy from Myungjun, energy that _could be returned with a kiss, Jinwoo_. However, living beings, particularly larger ones, seemed to suck the life out of him (Jinwoo would remember). Myungjun gave back what others could not.

“A holiday?” the older man asks, lips curving up lazily. His eyes slip shut, “Sounds amazing,” Myungjun replies, wistfully. He cradles his head, mouth falling open.

Reaching over, Jinwoo threads his fingers through Myungjun’s hair, feels his boyfriend melt beneath his touch. He hums quietly, curling into Jinwoo’s affections. “Don’t fall asleep on me, baby,” Jinwoo coos, making Myungjun giggle – sunshine in a sound.

“I’m just imagining,” Myungjun defends, cracking an eye open to glance at Jinwoo. “I’d love to go on a holiday. To a rainforest, or a beach. Oh, I’d really love to go to the beach.”

Jinwoo smiles, pressing a kiss to the brunet’s temple. “Why don’t we?” He asks, smoothing the pad of his thumb over the point he just kissed, relishing in his privilege to do so.

Myungjun’s head rises from his palms, blinking up at Jinwoo. He smiles, “That’d be wonderful,” he murmurs. The grin on his lips falls, then, “But, what about your work? And, the bakery? Who’s gonna take care of Minhyuk?”

“Minhyuk is more than capable of taking care of himself.”

“I beg to differ. Your job?”

“They gave me a two-week break, next month.” Myungjun smiles softly, at this news. “And the bakery? Minhyuk and Sanha know how to run it just fine – you and I both know that.”

The older man’s brows furrow, “Someone needs to keep an eye on them, though. They’ll be… Alone… In our apartment…” He grumbles, making vague, inappropriate gestures.

Jinwoo gives his shoulder a gentle, playful shove, “Oh, stop it! They’ll be fine, Myungjun. Probably glad to see us out.”

“Exactly!”

Deciding to save this conversation for a later date, Jinwoo trails the topic back to the holiday itself. “So, what do you say?” He asks, turning Myungjun around and stepping between his legs, cupping the man’s chin in his palms. “We go to the beach, forget all our obligations. Take a break, a get-away.”

Myungjun lowers Jinwoo’s head, brings him in close to him, leaving a long, tingling kiss to his lips. “I’d love it.”

\--

They rent out a small beach house for four days. The backyard falls onto South Korea’s sandy lacing, a balcony parallel with the blue horizon. The house is scattered with various cheesy trimmings, framed stock photos of shells and typography that tells them to feel the sand between their toes. The bedroom has an old television and a large double bed, soft as the clouds appear.

The sky is impossibly clear, bringing with it a comfortable heat that dances on their skin; the kind of Summer day that burns memories into their brains. They spend their first few hours exploring the little seaside town, ducking down winding alleyways and popping into little gift shops.

They settle on a hillside, tangy ocean breeze washing over them as they huddle within the long grass, watching the ocean ripple beneath them. Myungjun is curled beneath Jinwoo’s arm, secure in his lap, head resting against his chest.

Truth be told; he was worried about leaving home. Without their routine, the safety they’d found in knowledge and their tiny apartment block in the city, Myungjun was terrified of something going wrong. Of being caught, of being found out. He’d voiced this to Jinwoo, who’d promised him everything would be okay.

He believes now – here, in an unknown place that glistens with mystery, the childish kind that encourages curiosity – that home isn’t a brick-and-tile flat, or a thatched-roof hut, but rather, within Jinwoo’s arms.

\--

That night, the darkness swallows up the sun, and the moon hovers over the ocean like a ghost. There is muscle memory in the way Myungjun peels off Jinwoo’s shirt, runs his fingers over the light trail of hair that arrows between his lover’s legs. In the way Jinwoo lays kisses along Myungjun’s collarbones, igniting red and purple patterns over his body in crude heart shapes.

The pair become equals, not whole without the other, bodies glistening under the moon’s light. Their names become synonymous with pleasure, rumbled begging in the silence of that little beach house. Their bodies are plains to explore, to dwell. A feeling more intense than love washes in with the high tide, but doesn’t follow it out at low.

Jinwoo and Myungjun fall asleep, curled within a pool of thin sheets, letting the gentle crackle of the ocean usher them to sleep.

\--

The morning sun rises behind them, gifting them with the final seconds of twilight, for dawn to peek around the corners, orange and red. Side by side, they sit on the railing of the balcony, their swinging legs bumping by their ankles. Head nestled on shoulder, arm secured around waist; it’s compulsory, it’s instinct.

They make a warm breakfast together, kissing in between taste tests, savouring the flavours they find on each other’s lips. Tea, coffee, rich scents that mix with the cool, sharp salt of the breeze. There’s nothing to do, no schedule set. They laze around the dining table until the afternoon, chatting idly to each other, holding each other in the comfortable lulls, listening to the ocean fizzle.

“Shall we go down to the water?” Myungjun asks, around the rim of his coffee mug. Jinwoo’s fingers have strayed to the hair at the nape of his neck, twirling and tugging lightly. “We haven’t even touched the water yet.”

Jinwoo nods, smiling. He takes one last, long sip of his coffee, and stands. He’s in his pyjamas; one of Myungjun’s old t-shirts, and a loose pair of shorts, thrown on as he went to prepare breakfast, in case one of their temporary neighbours happened to peer in. “Let’s go,” he cheers, stepping onto the soft green grass of the backyard, towards the gate that opens up onto the beach.

“We’re in our pyjamas,” Myungjun states, picking at the only article he has on, a pair of sleeping pants.

“So, what?” Jinwoo asks, unlatching the gate. The sun shines on his grin, a silver lining that glints with mischief.

Myungjun hurries after him, hearing the gate clink shut behind him as they step onto the sand. It squeaks beneath their feet as the chase each other to the shore, where the darker strip of water heavy sand lay. The Summer, salty breeze accepts their chimes of laughter, carries them away.

Kicking the water that swims at their feet up at each other, flickering like crystals under the sun’s light, they play. Myungjun cups the tired end of a wave in his palms, rising the water above Jinwoo’s head and dropping it into his hair. The younger boy gasps, as the salt water dips over his brow, dots along the length of his collarbones and shoulders and seeps into his shirt.

“You didn’t…” He growls, playfully, tackling Myungjun in a wet hug. The older boy screeches, attempting to wriggle free, but Jinwoo’s grasp is too strong. He scoops his arm under Myungjun’s legs, clutching him close to his body, like a groom carries his bride at the end of the ceremony. With Myungjun in his arms, Jinwoo walks deeper into the water.

“No, no, Jinwoo, no,” Myungjun cries, giggling as the water climbs up Jinwoo’s legs. He clutches onto the back of the stronger boy’s neck, clinging to him for safety. He peers up at Jinwoo, who’s laughing, as bright as the sun above them. Myungjun feels the water slither around his ankles, and he squeals playfully again.

Jinwoo stops once the water has reached the middle of his thigh, too hard to wade through, now. The waves overlap each other, here, sliding over Myungjun’s naked back. Ever the melodramatic, Jinwoo sighs, “Goodbye, Myungjun,” he mutters, as if he were in a film. With that, he throws Myungjun into the water.

With a splash, Myungjun is dunked under the waves, before he immediately stands up, shrieking. The water feels lovely, cooling on his sun kissed skin; but he’d never tell Jinwoo that. “I can’t believe you just did that,” Myungjun huffs out a laugh, telling to Jinwoo, who folds over in giggles. He wraps his wet body around Jinwoo, climbing onto his back, effectively soaking him.

“I had to do what I had to do,” Jinwoo defends, hoisting his boyfriend further up his back, securing his arms under his legs. He turns, walks back to the shore, and back up to the house, to wash the salt from their hair and bodies.

“You’re lucky I love you,” Myungjun grumbles, pressing a kiss to the only place he can reach in this position, just beneath Jinwoo’s ear.

“I love you, too.”

\--

“The ocean looks so beautiful at night,” Myungjun whispers, standing beside the open window of the kitchen, where Jinwoo cleans up after dinner. They both peer out at the ocean, dunked in the inky black of the night, struck alight by the moon’s white light, rippled and glittering over the water. The town is dotted along the shore with other beach houses, orange lights reflecting long and wrinkled. “I want to go out there,” he says, fond smile on his lips.

Jinwoo dries his hands. “Should we?”

“Doesn’t this beach have a curfew? Are we allowed?”

“You’re allowed to do anything, when you’re a witch,” Jinwoo says, and they both ignore the lie that had fallen off his tongue so easily. Nothing came without trouble when you were a witch – you lived a life in hiding. Myungjun glances at him sideways, making Jinwoo sigh. “I just… I mean, I have a way around it. Temporary, though.”

“Let’s just go as we are,” Myungjun smiles, extending his hand through the window. Jinwoo turns it over, pressing a soft kiss to his knuckles. He gently releases the boy’s hand, stepping out onto the balcony, and taking it again.

The sand has an ethereal glow to it, in the twilight. The pair leave their footprints, long divots, behind them as they walk, hands strung together between them like electricity lines. They absorb the tranquillity, the sound of the ocean bubbling at their heels, smoothing out over the sand.

Myungjun finds a long stick, washed up on the shore. Grabbing it, he leaves a long, thin trail beside their footsteps, guffawing at it as he peers behind them at their winding track. “Wait, Jinwoo,” he pauses, smoothing out a large circle of sand with the palm of his hand. With the stick, he scrawls their names into the shore, enveloping it in a thin, slightly wonky love heart. “Ta-dah,” he chimes, stepping back and admiring his piece.

Jinwoo kisses his cheek as he takes the stick from Myungjun’s hand, engraving ‘ _forever_ ’ beneath it. He feels a rush bubbling up in his stomach, roaring through his blood. He feels like he imagines a teenager might have, rebellious, on top of the world, indulging in their first love. Neither of them had been given that chance, that adolescent haste. Briefly, he wonders if this is how Minhyuk and Sanha felt on their trip, or how they feel whenever their skin meets, whenever their lips connect.

The tide is climbing higher. “It’ll wash away our names,” Myungjun whines, sitting beside their drawing. His fingers wind tiny hearts into the sand nearby, the absentminded love controlling his body. The ocean does; it swallows up their names and wipes them away, storing their love in it’s worldly body.

The water is calling for them, rough voice echoing in their ears. Jinwoo takes Myungjun’s hand, gently leads him into the water this time, helping him over the waves that knock at their legs. Submerged in the water, submerged in their love, in their holiday.

Jinwoo dunks his head under the water, the string of the salt on his eyes and in the back of his throat, hair flat and dripping over his eyes. Myungjun follows, tipping his head back as he emerges, fingers finding their way to Jinwoo’s waist. Their legs bump together as they tread the water. “We’re swimming in starlight,” Jinwoo murmurs, peering out at the horizon that melts into the starry night sky.

Myungjun grins, slick lips glittering. He leans forward, pressing their slippery chests together, connecting their mouths in a long kiss. It tastes of salt, of seawater. Their kiss is wet and clumsy, tongues searching for a flavour that isn’t so overwhelming, so unfamiliar. They remain this way, legs tangling as they struggle to stay afloat, connected by their lips and by their hands and by their hearts.

There’s a flicker of light. It slides over them briefly, making Jinwoo pull back, “Oh, shit,” he mutters, breathless and panting. He squints, peering back out toward the shore. The light sweeps across the ocean and beach, back and forth. “There’s a patrol officer,” he alerts Myungjun, who laughs quietly.

“Oh, my God,” he chuckles, treading the water. “Are we about to get caught feeling each other up, in the ocean, in the middle of the night?”

“No, remember my back-up plan?”

Myungjun hums, pouting, “Jinwoo, no, don’t. This is a holiday,” he whispers, but the patrol officer interrupts him.

_“If there’s anyone on the beach, we urge you to leave. It’s well past curfew.”_

“This is _our_ holiday, and I’m determined to not let a policeman ruin the mood,” he cries, before muttering a spell. The officer’s light glides past them a few more times, never stopping on them, before he gives up, his silhouette clambering back in between the town houses.

“Jinwoo, what the hell?” Myungjun asks, clutching onto his arm. “What did you do?”

“I made us invisible,” he chuckles, which makes Myngjun’s jaw drop. “It’s a sphere of invisibility, it only lasts about an hour.”

“I can’t believe you,” the older man mutters, shaking his head lightly. With his hold on Jinwoo’s arm, he brings the boy closer, returning to kissing him. Before too long, he pulls back, “Only an hour?” He criticises, a cheeky smirk on his lips.

“That’s well long enough,” Jinwoo argues, flicking Myungjun in the head.

“Not long enough for what I wanted to do,” Myungjun mumbles, sultry tones back him up as he rubs the sore spot on his forehead.

“Make it quick, then, you dork.”

Myungjun smirks, hands winding around Jinwoo’s sides.

\--

On the final day, it rains. Loud, heavy rain that greys out the space in front of you; that calls you from the depth of your sheets and asks you to dance in it. Which is exactly what they do.

Myungjun rouses from his sleep, the heavy rain pelting against the window. Jinwoo isn’t beside him in bed, a cold space where his warm body should have been. “Jinwoo?” He calls, searching.

“I’m in the living room,” He replies, and Myungjun follows. Jinwoo is sat on the couch, watching the rain hammer on the ocean, glittering and sparkling as it splashes. Myungjun settles beside him, in between his legs and against his chest, huddled in his warmth.

“It’s our last day,” he murmurs, voice vibrating against Jinwoo’s chest.

“Don’t think about it,” Jinwoo replies. “You don’t have to think about it until tomorrow.”

“That’s true.”

The grass is being bombarded by the rain, the thin green blades dancing under it’s influence. It reminds Myungjun of when he was a kid, and he would bounce around outside under the rain, trying to collect it in his mouth. He’d always be scolded by his mother, a day or two later, when his nose wouldn’t stop running, and his throat felt like it had been clawed at.

“Let’s go out there.”

Jinwoo turns to him, frowning. “What? We’ll get sick.”

Myungjun grins, rolling over so their chests press together. “Why not? We can have a warm shower together afterwards,” he giggles, pressing a kiss to Jinwoo’s lips.

“You’re insatiable.”

“You love me, anyway,” Myungjun says, and with that, tugs Jinwoo off the couch.

They step outside, under the rain, feeling it pelt against their skin. The wet grass slides against their feet as they play under the water. They dance, sing, laugh, drowned out by the heavy white noise of the rain, like the static on the old television inside. “Told you it would be fun!” Myungjun cries, over the rain. He grasps at Jinwoo’s wet shirt, that clings to his toned body, well-fitted, and pulls him in for a kiss.

The rain interrupts their connection of their lips, getting in the way and falling into their mouths. They’re both freezing, shuddering under the cool, Summer storm wind that bites at their wet bodies. And, yet, they burn where they touch each other, left to wonder how one person can make them feel so warm and free when they’re in a place that’s the exact opposite.

\--

Jinwoo drops his bags on their bedroom floor, falling to their bed with a sigh. The familiar echo of the city’s highways sounds in his ears, and he smiles.

There is only one definition for home, he believes, and it’s synonymous with _familiar_.

Whether that be their apartment, with pot-plant dirt scattered everywhere and the never-ending hum of the city drifting through their open window; or, the arms of another person, knowing the exact location of each freckle and just how many kisses it takes to travel across the length of their collarbone; it’s home, and he finds it with Myungjun.

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed!!  
> find vonseal [here](vonseal.tumblr.com) \+ [here](http://archiveofourown.org/users/vonseal/pseuds/vonseal)  
> read the magic users [series](http://archiveofourown.org/series/689652)  
> read [the other fic](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11572947) i wrote for magic users series  
> read the fic seal [wrote for me](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12105342)  
> find me on [tumblr](parkjinchu.tumblr.com) and [twitter](twitter.com/parkjinchu)  
> <3


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